Chapter 294
Chapter 294
+25 Points
Early morning light filtered into the room in thin, cautious bands, slipping past the curtains a if unsure it was welcome.
The young man was already awake.
He lay staring at the ceiling, eyes tracking the faint movement of shadows as the light shifted. Sleep had come and gone in fragments–restless, shallow, crowded with impressions that never quite formed into dreams.
His body felt heavy, sore in a way that was deeper than bruises, and every breath pulled gently against his ribs, reminding him of limits he hadn’t yet learned how to respect.
When the door opened, he turned his head immediately.
Dr. Adams stepped inside with the quiet efficiency of someone used to hospital rooms and early mornings. Her white coat was crisp, her expression calm as her gaze swept over him in a single, practiced assessment.
“You’re awake,” she said, a note of approval in her voice.
He nodded. His throat flexed, but he didn’t trust his voice yet.
She moved closer, setting her clipboard down and studying him more carefully now. There was no mistaking it–he did look better. The ashen pallor he’d worn before had eased, replaced by a bit of color in his face. His eyes were clearer, more focused, even if confusion still lingered behind them.
But her gaze dropped to his bandages, and her brows drew together slightly.
“Hm, ” she murmured.
He followed her eyes, suddenly self–conscious. The white gauze wrapped around his torso was no longer clean. A faint but unmistakable bloom of red had soaked through near his
ribs.
“You moved too much,” she said, not accusingly–more like stating a fact.
He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “I–I sat up. And walked a little p>
That earned him a look. Not anger, but concern edged with something firmer.
“You’re lucky you didn’t do more damage,” she said, already reaching for her gloves. “Those ribs aren’t healed enough for wandering p>
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+25 Point:
She pressed gently along his side, testing carefully. He clenched his jaw but didn’t pull away.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Yes,” he admitted. Then, after a pause, “But it did before too. ”
A corner of her mouth lifted, almost a smile. “Fair enough p>
She checked his blood pressure next, wrapping the cuff around his arm and watching the numbers rise and settle. Her expression relaxed when she saw them.
“Stable,” she said. “That’s good p>
The word good landed heavily. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed something to be uncomplicatedly good until that moment.
As she removed the cuff, she glanced at him again. “You’ve got a bit of blood seepage. Nothing alarming, but we’ll need to change the bandage. You probably strained the area p>
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She paused, studying him with mild surprise. “You don’t need to apologize. Just… try to be patient with your body. It has been through a lot p>
Patient. The idea felt foreign. Everything in him seemed keyed toward movement, toward doing–even now, injured and uncertain.
Dr. Adams jotted something down on her clipboard, then straightened. “A nurse will be in shortly to clean you up and change the dressing. Try not to move too much until then p>
He nodded again.
She turned toward the door, one hand already on the handle.
Something tightened in his chest–not his ribs this time, but something closer to instinct. The moment felt like it was slipping away, and with it, an opportunity he didn’t know how to
name.
“Excuse me, Doctor,” he said.
The words came out hesitant, rough.
Dr. Adams paused and looked back at him. “Yes p>
He swallowed. His heart thudded uncomfortably as he searched for the right phrasing. He didn’t know the rules here. Didn’t know what was allowed or expected.
“There was… a woman,” he said slowly. “She came to see me yesterday p> Recognition flickered across Dr. Adams‘ face almost immediately. “Oh?” she said, though her tone suggested she already knew exactly who he meant. He nodded, a little more firmly now. “I was wondering if–if I could see her again p> There it was. Out in the open. +25 Point: For a brief moment, Dr. Adams simply studied him. Not clinically this time, but thoughtfully, as if weighing more than just his request. Apart from the nurses and herself, only one woman had come to see him–Faye. And the fact that Faye was the one he was asking for made her a little curious. Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Well, Mr…,” she began. She let the word hang there, waiting. The pause stretched. Something stirred. The young man felt it before he understood it. The name surfaced without effort, without hesitation, as natural as breathing. “Roman,” he said. The sound of it startled him. He blinked, pulse jumping. “My name is Roman p> The silence that followed was charged. Dr. Adams‘ eyebrows lifted, and then she smiled–this time openly, unmistakably pleased. “Well,” she said, a hint of excitement slipping past her professional composure, “look at that.” Roman stared at his hands, then back at her, his thoughts scrambling to catch up with what had just happened. The name felt right. Not forced. Not borrowed. It belonged to him in a way nothing else had so far. “I don’t… I don’t know how I knew,” he admitted quietly. “It just–came out p> “That’s how it usually happens,” Dr. Adams said gently. “Memories don’t always return in neat < Chapter 294 order. Sometimes it’s fragments. Sensations. Names p> +25 Points She wrote something quickly on her clipboard, her movements smooth, energized. “This is good, Roman. It means your mind is starting to reconnect p> Roman. Hearing her say it grounded him further, even as it raised a hundred new questions. “So,” she continued, looking up again, “you want to see the lady who visited you p> “Yes,” he said without hesitation this time. Dr. Adams studied him for another moment, then nodded once. “All right. Don’t worry. I’ll send for her p> Relief loosened something in him. “Thank you,” he said. She gave hím a reassuring look. “Rest for now. We’re making progress, Mr. Roman. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet p> She picked up her clipboard, turned, and left the room. Comments LUCK DRAW > 143 E Vote